


Live Stream

by LazySundayMusings



Category: Peter Kay's Car Share (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 11:27:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18520543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazySundayMusings/pseuds/LazySundayMusings
Summary: Set on the Saturday morning before John returns the rental car.  This takes place alongside the events of “The Big Picture”.





	Live Stream

Houston, Texas. Saturday, 12:10 am.

Robert was sitting at the desk in his room, watching a live stream on the monitor connected to his laptop. He moved the map application from the monitor to the screen of the laptop itself, and attempted to follow the journey the cyclist was streaming from his helmet cam by looking for street signs or distinctive buildings as he rode along.

His concentration was broken by gentle knocking on the door followed by the distinctive drawl of his roommate. “Hey Robert - you awake in there?”  
“Yeah, Bob. Come on in.”

Bob came in and closed the door behind him. “Hey buddy. Can’t sleep?”  
“Nah. Swapping to the day shift always messes me about. How was the store tonight? Busy?”  
“Not really - maybe a hundred customers in the last hour, we think. Almost not worth staying open this late.”  
“Good luck expecting the boss to close up early, though.”  
“Sure, sure.” Bob nodded to the monitor. “Whatcha watching?”  
“A live stream of a guy back home.”  
“Oh yeah. D’you know him?”  
“Nope, but he’s riding around near where I grew up, so I’m having a look at the place as he goes along, seeing what’s changed.”  
“How’s he running a live stream while he’s on the move?”  
“No idea. Good trick, though.”  
“Right, right.” Bob looked at the screen for a few seconds. “Small town, is it? Where is everyone?”  
“Well, it’s not even quarter past six over there.”

“Okay. So, where is he?”  
Robert adjusted the map to show all of England, then progressively adjusted it to highlight Manchester then started zooming in to show Bob the area where the rider was moving through. They watched as the rider cycled at a good pace in open countryside, riding towards the edge of a built up area they could see on the map.

Bob was nodding. “That’s real pretty there. Is that where you grew up?”  
“Not far from where this guy is heading to. My old school is on the other side of the fields, off to his left.”

The monitor showed the cyclist’s head was constantly moving as he switched his attention between the road, open fields and further ahead to the lights of the buildings as he approached them.  
Bob frowned. “Is there no sound?”  
“Yeah, but it drops out now and again. I was listening for a while as he talked about where he was, but once he started droning on about kids making a racket late last night I turned it off.”  
“Have another listen - he might have stopped being a… what is it you call them?”  
“A whinging old git? All right.” Robert clicked the speaker icon and they could hear the cyclist talk about the plans to develop the area he was riding though. “It’ll be a shame when this goes,” the cyclist lamented.  
Robert was nodding. “Yep,” he agreed.

The cyclist’s attention was now firmly fixed on the road ahead. Bob and Robert watched as he moved left and right to avoid the increasing number of large puddles on the road, his speed increasing all the while until he was racing along the flat as he approached the first of the buildings.

Soon he entered the town itself, riding past random shops and other small businesses. They watched as he approached a set of traffic lights and came to a stop alongside a nondescript little hatchback that was already waiting. What they didn’t see was his front wheel come to rest on a loose stone and kick to the right, causing the cyclist to lose his balance and fall to his left. Instinctively he thrust his left arm out and it came down hard, banging loudly on the roof. The driver’s head jerked up and around in shock. The lag in the video transmission meant that the view for the Houston audience instantly changed from the traffic lights to a close-up view of an obviously angry man. They both sat back in shock as the driver’s voice came though the speakers.  
“What the hell are you playing- You! You’re that bastard cyclist! What are you doing, following me around, banging on me roof? What’s wrong with you, ya fu-”  
The sound stopped abruptly, but the video showed the driver was red-faced and shouting.

Bob was pointing at the monitor. “What have you done? What’s he saying? What’s he saying?”  
“It’s not me, all right?” replied Robert. “The sound’s dropped out again. Just wait, all right? Just wait.”

The pair sat transfixed as they watched the driver continue to rage in silence. Then they saw his eyes flick right, his mouth stop moving and a sly smile appear on his face. He looked straight into the face of the cyclist then quickly reached out the window to grasp the crossbar of the bicycle and start to shake it violently.  
The sound returned. “Really?” said the cyclist, pulling at the driver’s arm while trying to get his balance. “You’re going to push me over or something? Real grown up, yeah? Bastard! Bastard!”  
“Not yet,” replied the driver. “I’m waiting for that bus!”  
The view flicked to the left and was filled with the sight of a bus approaching at speed, horn blaring.

There was a single scream that was immediately drowned out by the roar of an engine that passed from the left speaker through the right speaker as the bus tore past. The roar diminished as the bus drove away.

The screen was black. The audio was gone.  
Robert and Bob could only stare at the screen in horror.

There was a chilling silence, then a buzzing noise as the audio was restored. Then they heard quiet, rasping breaths.

The video returned, showing a close-up view of the roof of the car. The view tilted down to show that the driver had pulled the bicycle right up against the car to get him out of the path of the bus.  
After a few seconds the cyclist was over his shock and started yelling and struggling. “Let go of me! Let go! Let go! Let me go!”  
The driver released his grip on the crossbar and the cyclist lurched backwards. His left foot was still in the toe-clip on the pedal so he couldn’t dismount cleanly, but stumbled and ended up sitting in a puddle on the road. “What the hell did you do that for?!”  
“I just let go - you’re the one who fell over, you clumsy prick! You need stabilisers! You should be thanking me! I just saved your life, you miserable bastard!”  
The cyclist gave him the finger. “Fuck you and all!”  
The driver returned the gesture and started to drive off. “Idiot!” he shouted out the window.

The cyclist stood up slowly, picked up his bike and stepped onto the footpath. The monitor showed the hatchback driving away, the audio just his loud, incoherent ranting. He was silenced by a second horn, and the view swung around to the road just as a truck tore past - having aimed at the biggest puddle - and sent a wave of water right at the camera.

For a moment there was no sound other than the truck as it drove away, the view just water running past the camera lens.  
“Shit! Shit! SHIT!”  
The monitor showed a brief glimpse of a hand coming towards the camera lens, then the stream ended abruptly.

In Houston, Robert and Bob looked at each other, stunned.  
Robert shook his head. “What the hell just happened?”

In Manchester, John was at the side of the road, barely able to catch his breath after laughing harder and longer than he had in a long time. The blast of the horn had grabbed his attention and he’d immediately looked in the rear-view mirror in case something was bearing down on him, but instead he’d been treated to the sight of a certain bearded cyclist looking like a drowned rat after being drenched by the passing truck.  
He looked around at the deserted streets. “Oh, I wish someone else could have been here to see that. No one’s gonna believe that actually happened.”

He put the car in gear and got moving, a huge grin on his face.  
“But what a way to start the day!”


End file.
